Yun Zhao understood why this person looked down on her petty grievances of love and hate. Compared to the grand ambitions he harbored, the conflicts among noble families and the struggle for the Eastern Palace throne were utterly insignificant.
It was the Sky-Reaching Tower!
The Great Ji Dynasty had endured for three thousand years, and the Sky-Reaching Tower had been under construction for the same span of time. It was the foundation of the nation and the shared aspiration of the people. To destroy the Sky-Reaching Tower, one would first have to annihilate the imperial family, then the noble clans, and finally slaughter every person in the land.
“I can’t help you with this,” Yun Zhao said bluntly. “It won’t succeed. There’s no hope at all. This is truly courting death.”
She disdained lying and refused to offer him empty comfort.
“Then what should I do?” he laughed loudly in the night wind, his black cloak billowing wildly. His laughter was arrogant and audacious. “Who told me I’m destined to be the great villain?”
Yun Zhao felt a subtle sense of offense.
Her pride could never allow someone else to be the great villain while she was relegated to the role of a mere malicious supporting character—not even in a story.
She narrowed her eyes. “Then you’d better pray that everything goes smoothly for me, so I can spare some time to assist you.”
“Pray?” he chuckled. “To whom? The gods in heaven, or the Supreme Being on earth?”
This scene felt eerily familiar.
Though this person bore no resemblance to Yan Nantian, the mocking tone in his words was strikingly similar.
*
“Father!”
Yan Nantian rose hurriedly, placing his hands on his forehead as he bowed respectfully.
After completing the ritual, he raised his eyes to look at the middle-aged man with graying temples who was striding toward him.
Their gazes met briefly.
Yan Nantian immediately lowered his eyes and said, “Once Wen Nuannuan awakens, I will report to you immediately. Your Majesty’s health is of utmost importance. Please rest now.”
The Emperor waved his hand dismissively. “It’s fine.”
He strode closer and glanced at Wen Nuannuan, who lay unconscious on the sickbed.
The Emperor’s face showed no emotion. “For the sake of this woman, you’ve caused such a rift with your consort.”
Yan Nantian replied softly, “I dare not.”
“Dare not?” The Emperor snorted. “Your mother-in-law was so angry she resorted to violence, yet you’re not returning to the Eastern Palace to comfort Yun Zhao. What are you doing here? Are you so afraid this woman might suffer another mishap?”
Yan Nantian hurriedly tried to explain, “Your Majesty, I—”
The Emperor cut him off with a wave. “Enough. From the moment you entered Yonghe Palace, your eyes have been glued to this woman, not moving an inch!”
Yan Nantian’s expression stiffened. “...Your Majesty’s reprimand is justified.”
“You, you!” The Emperor pointed at him in exasperation. “Don’t forget why the Yun Clan and the Xiangyang Clan support you! Be careful not to destroy your own foundation!”
A flicker of humiliation passed through Yan Nantian’s eyes.
The Emperor noticed but showed no reaction.
He waved his hand again. “Forget it. How can a man of the Yan family be controlled forever? Since this woman is of the Yun Clan’s bloodline, you can simply take her into your household after marriage. It would even make for a good story.”
“Yes.”
“But your household will be in turmoil!” The Emperor sat down on the brocade couch like an ordinary father and patted the space beside him.
Yan Nantian approached and sat down gingerly.
The Emperor sighed. “The late Consort Qin was also a lawless character. Back then, she killed your mother out of jealousy and later caused so much trouble that even your third brother was implicated!”
Yan Nantian gave a bitter smile. “I no longer remember what my mother looked like.”
The Emperor didn’t remember either.
He sighed again, patted Yan Nantian’s hand, and said earnestly, “Women, consumed by love, often act without regard for propriety or consequence! A wife who lacks virtue is a calamity.”
“Yes. I understand.” Yan Nantian kept his eyes lowered.
Seeing that Yan Nantian was so distracted that he hadn’t even realized the Emperor already knew about “his mother-in-law resorting to violence,” the Emperor shook his head with a smile and patted his shoulder.
“When she wakes up, remember to ask about the Loulan Sea Market first. Don’t get caught up in trivial matters of the heart!”
“Yes!”
The Emperor nodded in satisfaction, pushed himself up with his hands on his knees, and waved to indicate that Yan Nantian didn’t need to see him off.
“Farewell, Father.”
After a long while, Yan Nantian slowly rose and lifted his gaze, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
The third prince’s downfall was largely due to the fact that the palace was as tightly sealed as an iron barrel, impervious to leaks.
Unlike himself, where anything that happened in the Eastern Palace in the morning would be on the Emperor’s desk by noon.
How reassuring.
*
Yun Zhao jumped down from the stone pillar.
Looking up, she saw Old Zhao, the head guard, standing nearby with his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, his expression tense.
When he saw her step away from the dangerous spot, he quietly exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly.
“Old Zhao!” Yun Zhao asked, “Have you ever seen a ghost?”
The head guard, unsure of what mischief she was up to, replied cautiously, “Miss Yun, there are no such things as ghosts.”
“Oh.” She asked again, “Then have you ever heard of demons that can create illusions?”
Old Zhao: “...I’ve never heard of such things either.”
She stopped asking and walked back toward the Ancient Day Court, kicking at the gravel along the way.
As soon as she returned to the Eastern Palace, a shadow guard quietly approached Old Zhao and whispered something to him.
Though his voice was hushed, Yun Zhao’s sharp ears caught the words.
She faintly heard the shadow guard report, “The body has been dug up.”
Yun Zhao: “Oh?!”
Someone who used illusions to play tricks had actually dug up the person Yan Nantian had buried?
And this was in the Nine-Layered Mountains.
*
After a restless night, Yun Zhao woke up in the afternoon to find a small stack of thin rice paper placed on the low table by the window.
She didn’t need to look to know it must have been sent by Yan Nantian.
“He has so much free time.”
Pursing her lips, she sat by the window and picked up the papers to read.
The pages were densely covered in bold, erratic handwriting, with noticeable gaps between sections, clearly written in fits and starts during spare moments.
It turned out to be a story.
Yun Zhao felt a mix of emotions.
Yan Nantian had indeed never broken a promise to her.
He had said he would write her a story, and here it was—he knew she was uneasy.
She pressed her lips together and began to read slowly.
He had written in haste, with no embellishments in his prose.
The narrative was detached and matter-of-fact, telling the tale of a fox.
At first, Yun Zhao didn’t pay much attention, but gradually she became engrossed. By the time she reached the last page, she felt a deep sense of melancholy.
Setting the papers down, she gazed out the window, lost in thought.
In the story, a woman who had been ill for a long time lived with her handsome husband in a small, cozy home.
He spent half his days working outside to earn money for her medicine, and the other half with her, doing things she enjoyed—gardening, raising birds, and making paper cuttings.
Every day, he would repeatedly remind her not to leave the house because the wind outside was too strong.
He told her stories about the outside world.
The creaking sound was the waterwheel, and Old Man Yang would help the villagers fetch water every so often; the neighbor’s boy, Tiger Cub, had a flock of ducks that would go out to swim in the river every day and return with another flock from the neighboring family; the squeaking noise was the candy cart, as the peddler went to town to sell his wares.
She was deeply attached to him and felt restless whenever he was away.
She wanted to go outside, but he always refused and made her promise never to leave the house.
One day, he didn’t return at the usual time.
Breaking her promise, she pushed open the door and stepped outside.
The autumn wind swept through a desolate village.
The waterwheel was broken, half-submerged and rotting in the river. The neighboring houses were in ruins, their gates leaning precariously. The squeaking sound came from a broken cart stuck in a locust tree, and the cawing wasn’t from ducks but from crows perched in the branches.
Every yard was stained with dried blood, and scattered bones lay everywhere.
Fragmented memories flashed through her mind.
A fox demon had rampaged through the village, slaughtering everyone. The familiar faces—Old Man Yang, Tiger Cub, the peddler—they had all been killed!
The pool of blood on the ground reflected a face—it was her handsome husband.
He lunged at her, and she fainted. When she woke up, she had forgotten everything.
He was the fox.
That’s why he never let her leave the house.
All his kindness was a lie.
No matter how good he was, it was all a lie!
She returned home and hid a bone-cleaving dagger under her pillow.
When he returned, he was in high spirits.
He told her he had found the medicine to cure her illness, and she would soon recover. Then he would take her traveling—to towns, to cities, to the capital, to Luoyang.
She cried.
He held her tenderly, his heart aching for her.
His body suddenly stiffened.
She had plunged the dagger into his heart.
The pool of blood grew larger, reflecting his handsome face.
As he fell, he made sure to steady her first before collapsing backward, careful not to hurt her.
“The medicine is on the stove... it can cure... wounds from a peachwood sword...”
He died.
Wounds from a peachwood sword? The “illness” in her chest flared up again, sending waves of sharp pain through her.
She realized something was wrong. On the night the fox demon killed, the reflection in the pool of blood showed his handsome face. But where was the fox?
The fox...
The fox was in front of him, pierced by his sword.
For some reason, he didn’t kill the fox. Perhaps it was because the fox, severely injured and dazed, had forgotten everything, making it hard for him to harden his heart.
He forgave her.
Tomorrow or the day after, he could take her away from here, to the town, to the big city, to the capital, to Luoyang.
“...”
Yun Zhao muttered resentfully, “Third-rate romance!”
She casually slapped the stack of paper face down onto the table.
On the back of the pages, bold characters were written:
[You said you’d only read third-rate ones.]
Yun Zhao: “...” Is Yan Nantian a mind-reader or something?
She took a deep breath and flipped the page.
On the back of another page, a few more words were written:
[Don’t leave home.]
She continued flipping.
[Ah Zhao]
[Zhao Zhao]
[Wait for me]
[Don’t leave home]
...
